A Thankful Heart

Last Sunday afternoon and Monday I was in bed feeling sorry for myself.  It turns out pneumonia recovery takes longer than I thought...

And the air quality in the otherwise beautiful Salt Lake valley was the worst in the world this past week (even worse than in China, according to Jeran).

And everyone else was getting sick too.

Ever heard of the January blahs?  We had them (or at least I did).

Then Monday afternoon the phone rang.  It was someone from the Relief Society presidency (women's group in church) wondering if I'd teach the lesson on Sunday.  I almost started to say I couldn't do it, but something in my said, "This is the answer to the prayer that has been in your heart all week."  

The lesson?  Consider The Blessings, by Thomas S. Monson.  I read it, and thought about blessings, but still didn't feel very blessed.

 I read it again.  This time I thought I should try to pray for ways I could help people, even though I wasn't feeling well.

Through the week opportunities came.  One day a girl on Megan's basketball team needed a ride home.  My first thought was that I was too busy to take a few extra minutes to take her home, but then I remembered my prayer and knew it was one of those little things I could do.  As we drove her home and she talked about her family and her mom's work schedule, I was glad I'd listened...and glad Megan had such good friends.  I ended up telling her we could give her a ride any time, and I was the one who was blessed that day.  In just those few minutes my day turned around.

A few days later, Megan's team needed a meal after their games.  The team mom asked if I could help buy pizza for the girls.  I said I could, and as I was helping drop off pizza at the school, I started talking to the team mom and eventually we were talking about soccer.  We've been looking for a new team for Megan and Gabby, and the team her daughters play for (same ages as Megan and Gabby) sounded like what we were looking for.  Again, I served, but I was blessed.

And so it went, all week.  Me trying to be aware of blessings, and trying to be aware of opportunities to serve, even in small ways.  Then about mid-week, Nate (who has been out of wrestling since mid-January because of a torn ACL) came home with news that the entire wrestling team had to take the week off and couldn't go to tournaments because they had skin staph infections they had all contacted from wrestling mats somewhere.  I just looked at him, stunned, as the tears formed in my eyes.

"Nate," I said.  "Do you know what that means?"  

(Confused teenager expression in response...  I'm sure he was thinking, "It's just a week...  It's just staph...  Why are you crying?")

But in an instant, I was insanely grateful for his horrible wrestling season...the torn ACL, the disappointment about not wrestling, the trips to the doctor, the knee brace, the PT, the uncertainty about surgery...all of it.  Because all of that meant he didn't have staph.  And staph, or anything remotely connected to strep, is horrible for Nate.  A few years ago, after a long list of horrible health problems and complications, Nate was diagnosed with PANDAS, which, in a nutshell, means strep antibodies that are supposed to attack strep bacteria attack his neurological system (think rheumatic fever but brain instead of heart).  It was a long road to recovery, and one I'm sure could be shorter if he had to travel it again, but I don't want to find out, and I'm sure, neither does he.  (See here for long recovery story...not much of an explanation, but a little.)

All week since then, I've thought about how, when he was first injured, I hoped that something good could come out of this, but at the same time, I thought a lot more about how it seemed like Nate couldn't catch a break when it comes to good health, and (sadly) I was also a little put out at the inconvenience of all the doctor's appointments on my schedule.  All along God was steering, just like I'd first hoped, but it took a while to see His direction.

Then as the week wore on, I realized all that driving and carpooling Nate had been doing for me while I was in bed with pneumonia wouldn't have happened if he had still been in wrestling.

And we've loved the relationship we have with him again because he's home more, and getting to enjoy his humor and random insights...

And after the doctor thinking Nate would need surgery, we are finding out that he might not, which is great news.

It's all been a blessing...

So (note to self) keep calm and be thankful.

I'm feeling better and better every day.  I'm actually now only a little out of breath when I climb stairs.  Mostly I have enough energy for a day, and I've just finished four consecutive days of work, which is a record since January 1st when I first came down with the flu.

And even though it's dumping snow outside right now, it was almost 40 degrees today, and the wind before this storm blew all of the gunk out of the air and we woke up being able to see sky and mountains for the first time in almost a month...and cleaner air is in the forecast for this week.  I can already feel my lungs expanding.

Random Whiny Blog Post: Take Two

So apparently this isn't mono.

It's pneumonia.  

I started on antibiotics this afternoon.  

I'll be better by Thursday.  

At least that's what the doctor said.  If not, prepare for Random Whiny Blog Post (three).

Mary's Sick Log: Week 215

Ok.  I know it hasn't been 215 weeks since I was healthy, but it sure feels like it.

There was mono last fall...

Then the flu on New Year's Day (which lasted a full week).

Now mono again, which I know wasn't really completely gone before I got the flu, but now because of the flu, the symptoms are back.

I hate being sick.  You know that saying that you don't fully appreciate health until you're sick?  Well, that fits me.  I take health for granted until I'm sick, and I hate being sick.  I'm so impatient.

And I'm pretty sure my family isn't happy about it either...

And there are still a few Christmas items to return/exchange...

And would you believe a few packages to mail still?

And ideas of projects, and things that need to be done...  But all that gets done is work and the basic family things.

And random whiny blogs.  (Check)

Donny and Marie--The Rest of the Story

The truth:  Tim is a fan.  I know who they are.  I appreciate their talent and professionalism, and I think they have an incredible story.  I think Marie is an amazing, strong, accomplished, talented and resilient woman--love that she is real and what she stands for.

However, back when Donny and Marie were huge pop culture icons, I was growing up in rural Idaho, in a home without a TV because antenna signals weren't strong enough back then to reach us.  My first intro to Donny and Marie (after we got a TV) was my mom being excited for us to watch their Christmas special on TV.  My mom had also been excited for us to watch Lawrence Welk.  For all I knew, Donny and Marie were in the same category as Lawrence Welk.  If my mom liked it, I was sure it was my duty as a budding teen to not like them.

When I realized who they were, I thought their story was cool, but I missed out on the mania that creates lifelong fans...

Which is what Tim is.

When our children were younger, he bought a Donny and Marie CD and put it in the car CD player.  One day my kids were singing Donny and Marie songs.  It was then I heard that when I wasn't in the car, they would drive around with Tim with the windows down singing along to the Donny and Marie CD at the top of their longs.  (So glad I wasn't with them.)  I can appreciate the talent of the Osmonds without singing their songs at the top of my lungs, right?

But when their show was coming to Salt Lake City so close to Christmas, I couldn't resist getting tickets for Tim...

And what an amazing show.  They really are talented performers...  50 years in the business and still going strong in a business that chews people up and spits them out...selling out shows 5 times a week in Las Vegas, winning awards in Vegas, where shows are known for pushing limits... That's impressive.

So, yup.  There you have it.  The rest of the story.

Day In Review...If You Give A Mouse A Cookie

You know those days when the day leads you?  When best laid plans get ignored? (a.k.a give-a-mouse-a-cookie kind of days.)

But before the day in review, I need to say Tim and I had huge plans to attend Donny and Marie concert in Salt Lake City later in the evening...Tim's Christmas present from me, and I did surprise him, unlike most other years.  Yes, I bought the tickets in November and Tim still didn't find out.

Day in review:

• Plan to do some winter cleaning...
• Drove Megan to basketball practice
• Start winter cleaning, which included a nice sized donation pile.
• Tim was doing his some winter organizing of his own in his office...new set of shelves he built.
• Couldn't get down the hall while he was moving the shelves in so I got put on guinea pig babysitting duty while Gabby cleaned her guinea pig cage (guinea pigs are a gift from Santa).
• Jeran found Kohl's cash while helping Tim move shelves that had to be used by the 1st.  (Note:  Change of plans...add trip to Kohl's into my day, when I go to drop off huge donation pile, and pick up the tickets from my office where I hid them.)
• Somehow the dog and the guinea pigs got into the same room...no harm.  Dog was curious, but not interested in making Gabby's new pets into a meal.
• Relieved of pet sitting duty.
• Leave to pick up Megan from basketball practice.
• Megan is dizzy and feels like passing out.  She eats and feels a little better, but as we're talking about symptoms, she named some symptoms of diabetes (which runs in her genes...over 50% of the population of Marshall Islanders over 30 has diabetes...something I've always worried about).
• Call a friend who is a nurse and takes care of daily testing for students with diabetes in our school district.  Wait for her to call me back.
• Megan feels better but is still pretty wiped out.
• I go to Kohl's.  Friend calls back while I'm there...thinks Megan should get checked out.  Tim has a friend who also works with diabetics.  He said the same thing.
• Cry on the phone to Tim because the emotions of the day and worry about Megan hit me all at once.
• Tim takes Nate to driving portion of his driver's license test.  Nate passed.  (Huge, loud cheering.)
• Finish at Kohl's and go home to take Megan to Urgent Care without dropping off donations (which are still, at this late hour, in the back of the Durango).
• 2.5 hours at Urgent Care.  It's their busiest week of the year (the nurse said so).  All the while I'm wondering who Tim will take to the concert if Megan is sick or in the hospital and I can't go...
• Turns out Megan's blood sugar is ok...She was dehydrated.  
• Stop at the store to buy some healthy food as Megan tries to talk me into every sugary treat imaginable because apparently, 2.5 hours of imagining her life with sugar restrictions had left her with some cravings (but I said no...such a good mom...who is more determined than ever to help this girl never get diabetes).
• Get home in time to see the huge mess I left trying to get some cleaning done...which would have to remain a huge mess because no matter what, we were going to the concert.
• But first I had to drop Jeran off at a birthday party and pick up the tickets from my office.
• Enjoyed an amazing evening of entertainment with Tim and about 2,700 of Donny and Marie's friends.

Image credit shared by my friend on facebook when she knew we were going to the concert

...And the mouse hangs the picture on the refrigerator and stands back to admire his work and seeing the refrigerator, wants milk, then asks for a cookie to go with it...  And the whole thing starts over again tomorrow.

It's Been A While...

...Almost three months since my last real blog post?  Really?  (The last two were just acknowledgement of my little hiatus.)

Mono kicked my hiney.  There are still some days I yawn at work (not a good thing for a therapist to do a whole lot of), and I'm amazed still at how fast I can feel exhausted.  Mostly though, I have more days now where I feel "normal," so I'll take it.

But really...  Where to begin?

November...  National Adoption Month.  Thanksgiving.  Most years I have a lot to say about both.  Our November tradition around here is to focus on gratitude by naming things we're thankful for every day and trying to fill up our kernel jar.

This year I heard a question early in November that made our gratitude focus a little different.  The question was "Have I seen the hand of God reaching out to touch me or one of my family members this day?"

As imperfectly as we could with crazy teen schedules and a parent with mono, we tried to focus on this question when we talked about gratitude.  ...Different twist, and I think a great way for us to focus attention on how God's hand is in the details.

Also on Thanksgiving Day, Tim and I celebrated our 18th anniversary.  Happy day.

We even left the kids overnight the weekend prior to Thanksgiving to celebrate...  All by themselves...  All five of them...  And the house was still here when we got back...  And they're all still alive.  

I know.  Amazing.  

And there's more...  So much, much more, but I'm sure we'll catch up.  Or not.  Either way, I think I'm blogging again.  Time will tell.

Apparently You Can Get Mono Twice

 No wonder I'm so exhausted.

And this sore throat that feels like strep comes and goes and won't go away!

And those days where I'm achy and feverish...

I just thought I must be getting every cold that is going around this fall, but apparently it's one really, really long virus.

But life goes on.  Ibuprofen and Airborne are my friends, because I feel better and function better when they're my friends.

And as long as you don't kiss me or drink out of my water bottle, you should be fine.

And some fun news...

We're excited to be going back to Omaha next week to visit Gabby's sister and former friends, fantastic foster mom, etc...

Meanwhile, enjoy the fall pictures.

Joie was ticked that we had to go see the "stupid fall leaves."

Great picture.  In reality she was running away from the camera.

Then she got into the whole idea of Hunger Games and suddenly the fall leaves weren't stupid anymore.

Then

Something about rugby conditioning...
He packs her around a lot lately, and obviously, she doesn't mind.

They  hiked up from the clearing below where Jeran somehow got them to sit and just take it all in and create a mental picture of their visit to the mountains.  They had a Walden Pond moment.

You would not believe how hard it was to convince Nate to join a family picture.
(Not like you couldn't tell from the look on his face.)

If You Want A Happy Ending...

I heard this quote the other day:

If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story.  --Orson Welles

The End.

(Don't you wish you could do that in real life?)

Catching some Z's

Exhausted but relaxed would be how I felt last night.  It's been so long since I've slept like that...

Last thing I remember: Watching Olympic BMX with the kids after a date with Tim.

Next thing I remember: Waking up on the couch with a blanket over me, dog laying on top of me, with Gabby asleep on the other couch.  (Apparently we were having a mommy-daughter-doggie sleepover, or so I was told.)

How I know I must have been tired:  1) I fell asleep before anyone else in the house.  2) There was a dog sleeping on me.  3) I don't remember anything that happened between BMX and waking up with a dog and a blanket on me.

Ahhhhhhhh...  Zzzzzzzzzzzz...

So Stinkin' Excited, I Can't Stand It!

I'm not kidding.  I'm approaching Christmas kind of excitement...new baby kind of excitement...

In exactly one month I move into my new office.  I'll be leasing new office space with up to six other therapists, a few prescribers, and a psychologist who specializes in evaluations.

Cool.

Tonight we painted...or at least I tried to paint while Tim went around behind me to make sure I didn't mess things up too badly.

And all five children went with us (since it was Monday and this was all in the name of Family Home Evening) and they now know every hiding place on the grounds thanks to a great game of hide-n-seek.  A few of them even figured out how to climb trees to look into our second story windows so they could "spy" on clients while I'm at work.  (Dream on, kids, but it was kind of Sound-of-Music-ish, right?)  They also walked to a nearby gas station and got slushies, and tested the elevator (many, many times).

But just being there with all my new colleagues, and officially making plans was so very, very exciting.  Unlimited possibilities ahead!

Dear Ruth

Dear Ruth--You would have been 35 yesterday.  When I told Joie, she said, "No offense, Mom, but you're old."  


I am old...at least older than you.  I'm old enough that I remember your dark brown eyes, and cute dark brown curls as a baby, and that your hair didn't fall out.  And I'm old enough to remember your huge smile, and how much I adored you when you were born.  I was eight years old when you were born, and I carried you around and called you, "Dolly" because I thought it was horrible that my parents would name such a cute baby, "Ruth."  (I thought Ruth was an old lady name.)

Ruth, it was too soon for you to leave us.  I wish almost every day I could see you again, and hear your voice again--to hear you talk about your girls.  I know they were your world, and I loved the way you told stories about them.  So many times since you died, I've wished I could sit down and talk to you about Joie.

Better yet, I wish you could just be here, being Joie's mom.  When I see her do and say things I tell myself that you're watching, and you know, but it's just not the same not having you here--not seeing your face light up as you watch your beautiful daughter grow.  Sometimes (especially in the beginning) I feel you near, whispering to me what to do.  I feel like I'm raising her with you, even though you're not here, but I wish we could just sit down and talk...and at the same time I know if you were here, we wouldn't be raising Joie.

When Joie was little, I remember you telling me you loved the song, "In My Daughter's Eyes," by Martina McBride.  Now every time I hear that song, I cry because every day I get to look into your daughter's eyes is a gift, but it's a gift I wish was yours.  The song ends with:

When I'm gone I hope you see,
How happy she made me,
For I'll be there,
In my daughter's eyes.


It's almost like you knew, and you were telling me.

I do know how happy she made you, because I could see it in your eyes every time you talked about her, and I do see you (and Nick) in her eyes.  I also hear it in her voice.  She talks like you.  Sometimes it's just the sound of her voice, but it's also in her mannerisms and in the phrases she uses, and in the way she thinks.  It cracks me up sometimes.  As I watch her grow, I know you'd be so proud of her.

Ruth, your life touched so many people.  Yours was a heart of friendship--something I know was a gift to everyone who knew you in the short 30 years you lived on this earth.  After you were gone, that was one thing I heard over and over again about you, and I know it's true.  You had the heart of a true friend.  I might have taken care of you when you were a baby, but when you grew up, you took care of me, through your love, through listening, and through your heart.  I wish I could still talk to you.  I miss our conversations (and my kids miss all the stories you used to tell on me).  Can't you just come back down and talk?  Just once?

I love you, Ruth, and I can't wait to see you again, and to really, really feel one of your hugs again.  Keep watching over us, because I know you do.

Love,
Mary

Hi, It's Me Again

Funny thing about writing...  I need to do it.

Funny thing about writing about stress... It tends to go away.

To stop writing about all of this right when I was finally putting it in words was almost impossible for me.  (So chalk another one up to crazy grief...which I'll say more about later.)  Not writing was like trying to plug a fountain with a finger.

The other day a colleague said to me, "We are harder on ourselves than anyone else ever would be."  He had just made a difficult decision, and was worrying about how his decision would affect other people.

So why do we think so much about what other people think?  I want to be one of those people who doesn't care--not in a cynical, insensitive way, but in a way that is just 100% comfortable in my own skin. And somehow throwing all this out there, and exploring all this with Tim, and letting it float around in my own brain blog is helping.

So as I wrap my brain around the idea that trauma and grief can still affect us this much all these years later, you all can tune in (or not).  Either way, at the end of the day it's me and the people under my own roof that matter most.

And do you know what's really amazing?  They all think I'm amazing.  Right here at home, where it matters most, we're working together to get it right every day just like every other family.

I can get irritated at teen sluggishness, and trails of shoes and clothes all over the house, and 10 minutes later we can all be ok with each other again.

Case in point (because I can't resist a good story)...

Yesterday Nate was in trouble.  And I told him so...  And I told him he had to "dig his way out of this hole."  About five minutes later I was loading the dishwasher (I do that once in a while) and I looked up to see him standing at the back door with a shovel in his hand.  I got it, but I was trying really, really hard not to laugh...because he was in trouble and I'm the mom and I'm not supposed to laugh if they're in trouble, right?  (By the way, I stink at not laughing when something is funny.)  I tried to ignore him, but he just stood there, and when I looked up again, all I could see was dimples...  Then he said, "I was wondering how you dig yourself out of a hole.  Technically, if you're digging, aren't you going in deeper?"

Laughter!

It was one of the best mea culpas I've ever seen.  I hope his wife appreciates that humor some day.

It's moments like that that make me amazed that these six other human beings who I love so much love me back.  At the end of the day all I have to give them is support, time (that's a hard one) and love.  And balance all that with work, home, friends, church...  (Psshht...  No sweat.)

And the best part is this new freedom to fail (which we always knew was a part of life, but just couldn't say it).  And there is relief in that, and even humor because we can say it out loud now and hear how crazy it sounds.  The other day Tim threw out the idea that if we can now fail, can we also fail and failing and therefore succeed?  Obviously, Nate is his son, because I laughed at that one also.

Either way, in the four days since I've said I'm not blogging, all this has been floating around in my brain and needed to be said.  And getting it down on paper helps me make sense it all...sort of.  I know I've said many times since this all happened that you can't make sense of senseless.

And even though I might think I'm the only one who feels this way, I'm sure I'm not.

Funny how just the opposite of what I thought I needed is what I need.

(And some good news...  Tim has day shifts for most of the rest of the summer...and 3 day weekends.  How amazing is that?  Right when we needed the gift of time, we got it.  Blessings.  I love them.)

Just to Clarify

Note to self:  Don't hit publish at 2:00 in the morning.

Warning to everyone else:  Read the previous post with caution.

I do think I might have alarmed a few people with that last post, so just to clarify:  Tim and I are married and in love.

But just to better explain my last post, I thought of an analogy.  On March 11, 2011 there was an earthquake and tsunami in Japan.  Over a  year later, many of us have forgotten the devastation, but were reminded recently as debris from the tsunami started washing ashore half way around the world.  The debris has been floating in the currents of the Pacific, undetected until it washed ashore.  It was mysterious and amazing, as so many things in nature are, and a reminder of the power of Mother Nature that the effects of that earthquake and tsunami could be felt all these months later.  Although people in Japan continued to recover, many of the rest of us have forgotten, and as is human, we focus on our own lives and challenges.

Almost 5 years ago, our family and many, many others were affected by the deaths of Ruth, Nick and Audrey.  The initial effects of this loss were tremendous on all those who experienced it (not just our family, but many, many others).  Within months of this loss, many people had moved on and little by little, so did we.  Then several months ago, Tim and I started to notice debris from this tragedy washing ashore in our relationship.  It surprised us, and caught us off guard, but was a reminder of the power of this kind of tragedy, and the need to continue the healing process.  On the other side of that healing is more family growth, and new and deeper meaning about life and love and family, which makes us thankful again we have each other.

One of the pieces of debris we noticed was our own self-imposed need to get this all right.  No mistakes allowed.  To much was at stake.  It put us in a place in our relationship where we didn't want to burden each other with our worries, fears, challenges, etc. because we understood how much each other already had on our plates.  We were too busy dealing with what was in front of us to worry about the possibility of what might wash ashore later.

It's now later, and it's a relief to us both to be able to be at this point, and yet a reminder of the power of the kind of loss we've been through, as well as the losses our children have been through.  It is likely that grief/loss/trauma debris will continue to wash ashore for years to come.  At this particular point, I just wanted a break in my mind from blogging about it all.

That's it.  Nothing more.

Family.  Forever, for always, no matter what. 

(And Tim--I'm still looking for that guest post.)

Goodbye...Sort of

Has anyone noticed how blog posts are dwindling?   For a lot of reasons, I just don't have blogging in me right now.  I won't say I'm not going to post on here anymore, because you know me...always something to say.  I'm just taking a break from this for now...kind of like a summer break.  

And as fate would have it, something funky happened to my blog formatting last week, and as I was messing with the template to bring our blog back to life, I started reading back over our blog.  I wasn't in a great place that day, and as I kept seeing the word "healing" I kept asking myself what that really meant.

I think at one point I wished it meant there would be a time where we might be able to peel back the proverbial band-aid and magically not see a scar, even though I knew that we'd feel the ripples of tragedy for a lifetime.  

In reality, I've known healing is a journey, and that is where this brings us now...to a new point in our journey.

Recently Tim and I have recognized that in the process of bringing Joie into our family, we both felt a lot of pressure to get this right.  Neither of us felt like we could fail.  

Don't get me wrong...  What we have is beautiful.  It has been an amazing experience to be a part of this journey of Joie's (and now Gabby's) life.  At the same time, it's probably safe to say that no one ever asks to become a member of the grief/loss/trauma club...  Four years and ten months ago, we woke up one morning and were just going about the day...  Then there was that phone call no one wants to hear...  And so it was that we woke up one morning as a family of five and went to sleep five days later as a family of six and during those five days, ripples were set into motion that effect us still today.

Which brings me back to what Tim and I have been recognizing...the pressure to get it right.  

At some point early in this journey, there was an unspoken agreement between Tim and I that we couldn't fail.  Two huge extended families had trusted us to raise Joie, and in our eyes, at the time she joined our family, she was collectively the child of the Campbells and Weavers...not ours.  It still sometimes feels like we can't say "ours."  

Which brings me to another point where it feels imperative we get this right...

We're all hoping to float around on clouds one day with Nick, Ruth, and Audrey, and it would be really, really, really awkward if we all showed up to greet them without Joie.  Can you imagine that conversation?  Uhhh...Sorry guys.  We failed.  It turns out we weren't the right ones to get her through her difficult life.  

And so it goes, on and on...never failing, only getting it right...  (And to Campbells and Weavers and everyone else who supports us, we should clarify we're talking about pressure we put there ourselves in some kind of twisted impression that we had control over any of this during a time when we were grasping at trying to stay in control of something...anything.)    

As it turns out, Mr. Can't Fail has been a sort of invisible, lurking member of our family for a long time, and we're just starting to figure it out.  (For fans of narrative therapy, wasn't that great use of stepping away from the problem?  I even named it...huge pat on the back.)

So what does that have to do with not blogging?  (Yes...there's a long answer.)  

We started this blog as a way to stay connected to people who loved Joie.  Way back when, it was through blogging that we got to know Joie's extended family, who have become like our own extended family.  We love them more than we can say, and have appreciated their support of us in raising Joie.  Also as Gabby joined our family, blogging continued to be a way to let people in Gabby's life know how she was doing.

Then along the way, more people started joining in our little blogging community as our blog was shared on adoption forums, grief forums, and in other more public ways.  I get traffic from everywhere on this blog.  In a way, it was good to share our story, and to know that our story was helping others, and maybe some day there will be another time and place for that...

Meanwhile, at the end of the day, the people under our own roof matter most.  As Tim and I have talked about this pressure we've felt since Joie joined our family, we've also become aware of the effect that unrealistic pressure has on our own relationship.  As a couple, it's hard to be ourselves with each other if we have to worry about getting it right all the time...  (So we went back to talking about our fears last night...and weaknesses...and it felt good to be real again.)

And don't get me wrong.  We superimposed that pressure before we started blogging...but consciously or unconsciously, we're living part of our story through the eyes of other people.  I'm a huge believer in looking up, not looking out or around us as we live life...

(Short break.)

As I was getting ready to post this, I called and read it to Tim over the phone.  He is on his way back from Manti with the kids.  He took them to the Manti Pageant while I worked today.  (Huge bummer for me.)  As I was reading it to him, I could tell he was a little surprised I was doing this.  I asked him what he felt was missing.  As we talked, the take-away was the irony of this situation--something else we would want people to know.  In all our attempts to not fall apart, we really have fallen apart in our own ways...then we put pressure on each other not to fall apart.  Crazy cycle.  Crazy grief.  Crazy trauma.  There is no way but through.

And so it is that we say our sort-of "for now" good-bye.  

For family, we'll take our boring day-to-day blog somewhere else...

For everyone else, thank you for the support and kind words.  There is life after loss.  There is healing after grief.  We know it.  We live it every day.  

Family:  Forever, for always, no matter what.   

P. S.  Stay tuned.  Tim said he had something to post...  And for anyone who remembers, it was breaking news when he read this blog before, and he has left long comments on occasion that should be posts themselves (see links inside the breaking news post).  If I knew taking a blogging break would get him to guest post, I would have done it long ago!

P. P. S.  Today I added a clarification to this post after I successfully alarmed several family members...hope this helps to clarify.

Utah Adoption Council Conference

Adoptive parents and adoptive professionals in Utah:  This next week (April 25th and 26th) the Utah Adoption Council is holding their annual conference.  I'm presenting on the 2nd day--one session for professionals and one session for parents.  My topic (drumroll please) is:  My Child Isn't Responding to Therapy.  Now What?


Other conference topics include cultural competency, adoption law, adoption ethics, navigating the school system, Circle of Security (another of my favorites and something I have used in therapy for years)...and other topics as well.  Certainly it would be a setting to engage and connect with other like-minded adoptive parent, adoptive professional types.

If you're interested and have the time, see here for more information (click on agenda at the top and select the day and which track you are choosing--parent or professional).

Adieu

Adieu...but not for long.  We're sort of on vacation for a week.  Tomorrow I drive the kids to Juniper to spend the week with my parents...

Then I drive home and Tim and I leave for (drum roll please)...

Oklahoma City, Oklahoma...

(I can imagine the stunned silence.)

And did you know it's still technically tornado season?  But I checked the weather forecast and there's only a few days of thunder storms while we're there...thunder storms, not tornados.

As you all know, Tim has been traveling a lot this year.  His last trip (at least until fall) is to Oklahoma...

Turns out it's spring break...

Voila!  Vacation...  Again, sort of.  Tim and I in the same place at the same time...  That qualifies, right?

Imagination Awakening

Confession time:  It's been almost 5 years since I've read a fiction novel.  Sad, right?

I think at first I wasn't even aware I wasn't reading fiction.  I like to read and I was still reading...

• Psychology reference books...
• Biographies...lots of biographies...
• Religious books...
• How-To books...
• Cookbooks...

But no fiction.

Several times I'd pick up fiction books my children were interested in reading, books that previously would have grabbed my attention, only to put them down within a few pages of picking them up.  Once I thought it was because I needed something really interesting...even popular, so I started reading a copy of Twilight (gasp!).

Nothing.  Not even a stirring of my imagination.

I missed my imagination.  We actually used to be good friends.  For as long as I've been alive I've made up stories in my mind, and imagined characters, and story lines...

But on my imagination slept.

After a few years I figured it out.  The last fiction book I read was Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.  I finished reading it around the first part of August in 2007.  (I remember because we were on vacation and I couldn't put it down.)

It seemed that my imagination and love of fiction was yet another casualty of the grief and subsequent adjustments we experienced when Joie's family died.  It seemed that the harsh reality of our lives during those difficult years required staying in touch with reality in a way that was threatened by fiction.  I had no time or place for my old friend, Imagination.

As I entered 2012, I decided this would be the year to just jump in.  (See here.)

So when Megan came to me a few months ago, asking me to read Hunger Games so she could watch the movie with me, I decided to renew my friendship with my long lost friend, the fiction genre.

I started reading...

Not even a chapter into the book I was restless...

Too busy...

Too distracted by reality...

But I went back to it, and kept reading...

And when I thought I didn't have a time or place in my very real life adventure for fiction, I told the Type A part of me to take a break, and went back to reading.

...Several months later I'm happy to report I finished Hunger Games, not before the movie (although that was certainly motivation to finish), but I did finish.  Megan and Jeran ended up taking a friend instead when the movie opened because they wanted me to finish the book before I saw the movie, but I think I could twist their arms to go with me again...just maybe.

To be quite honest, I didn't love the book, but that's not the point, and this isn't a book review...it's a commentary on life, and the funny things we find ourselves doing to cope...

And how all these years later I can find myself still locked in a relationship with grief...

And how as we continue to reclaim parts of ourselves that were lost temporarily to tragedy, we realize how sweet life really is.

Now I'm reading another fiction book recommended to me by a friend.  All I can say is:

Dear Imagination:  It's sooooooo good to have you back.  Just typing your name, I-m-a-g-i-n-a-t-i-o-n, feels liberating.  Promise me if you ever sleep again, you'll always return...forever and ever and ever, as long as I live.  A few years ago I thought my life had outgrown you, but in the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson, "Imagination...is the health of every person."  Thank you for sleeping patiently while you waited for me to return.
Your forever friend,
Mary

Confessions of a Single Mom

I am not a single parent.  I do not pretend to even begin to understand the challenges of being a single parent.  My heart goes out to those who do it unselfishly day and night.  My own little peek into the life of a single parent is just that--a peek.  Tim has been out of town for 2-3 weeks (mostly on the 3 side) out of every month since last fall...every other month before that.  After a short trip in April he's finished.  Nothing could make our family happier.

I remember being on my mission in the Marshall Islands (almost 20 years ago, but who's counting) and getting to the point where the culture that had once been difficult to understand became second nature to me.  I remember questioning the luxuries of my western world upbringing, and embracing the idea that people mattered more than things.  At the same time, there was a part of me that knew, no matter how much I immersed myself in the culture and language, I would never really know what it was like to be an islander.  I knew that I was free to love all the amazing things about this island culture but would never really know the hardship of life there--what it was like to go hungry when there wasn't money for food; or what it was like to have a father or brother rage in a drunken fit of anger; or to be without hope for a future because there was no opportunity for education.  Even when I was terribly sick, I knew if it got worse, I'd be on a plane home, safe in the care of advanced medicine.

I think similarly now about my little stint in the world of single parenthood.  In some small form, this experience (one of my most difficult parenting experiences to date) has given me a glimpse into some of the realities of single parenthood which I hope to never experience more than I already have.

I can't begin to name all the things I've done out of desperation just to survive a day, here are a few:

• Food:  I'm typically a nutrition nut...whole foods all the way.  There are very few exceptions.  Over the past year, I've turned into a  creature of convenience when it comes to food and meals when Tim is gone.  On the menu this past few weeks have been frozen burritos, pizza rolls, and even cold cereal (also now on the menu for breakfast) and Tim orders pizza for us (from Atlanta) at least once a week.
• Bedtime:  Bedtimes are now strictly optional.  I'm sort of kidding, but sort of not.  I can see what a slippery slope this could be.  On days I'm completely exhausted, I push them in the general direction of bed later than usual (and day light savings time didn't help).  Waking up is also taking on a life of it's own.  I won't go as far as saying it's optional, but certainly I agree with the idea that there should be exceptions to getting kids to school on time if you're a single parent.
• And you know way back when my children were younger and I used to go to the store at night after my kiddos were in bed?  Back then they were safely tucked in bed with dad at home to make sure they stayed there or to answer any calls for help.  Back then I used to look at parents who would drag their children to the store that late and wonder who in the world would keep their children up that late...  Now I know.  It's single moms who have to go to the store and don't want to leave a child home alone.  In my case, I have teens, and most of them don't care about being alone for a while, but when mom time is limited, they often want to tag along.  And because mom time is limited, I let them.
• Homework:  Not optional, but sometimes late, and this past week Megan worked on an assignment way past when it was due.  It's hard to keep up with all the assignments as a single mom.  Also, Gabby's teacher told me in parent-teacher conference that she'd be sending home some vocabulary with Gabby.  I haven't checked Gabby's folder in over a week, and just remembered on Friday that I was supposed to be reviewing vocabulary with Gabby.  
• Jobs/Chores:  Of course a schedule and routine is preferable.  I know that.  But have you ever tried to enforce a schedule and routine when you're not home?  I'm a taxi mom these days.  I try not to over schedule my kids, but even with one activity each (or two...sometimes I let them choose one music and one sport activity), that's 5 different activities (or more), with sometimes nightly practices, games, lessons, etc.  Add to that church activities, and my own church callings...  It's a formula for exhaustion, so don't even talk to me about the chores and routine.  Every night is a fend night (a.k.a. FFY; a.k.a. Fend For Yourself).
• Electronics:  If you have read anything I've written about electronics, you know how I feel about limiting electronics.  But isn't it funny how even strong values start to slip under the constraints of limited physical and emotional energy?  The other day Jeran was home from school sick.  What do you do when you're sick but watch TV, right?  But for whatever reason, when I came home he ran to his room and pretended to be sleeping in his bed.  I knew he hadn't been there the whole time sleeping.  Later he admitted they've all been leaving the blinds open downstairs so they can see me pull into the driveway and turn off the TV.  I told them how we used to do the same thing as kids.  (You already know this, right mom?)  We'd take turns sitting on the kitchen countertop by the sink looking out the front window (watching TV at the same time) so we could see my mom coming and turn off the TV and pretend to be busy.   I'm sure she knew, just like I know, but the honest truth is I don't even care.  How sad is that?  I think if I'm not here, at least they're not in trouble.  Again, it's that slippery slope, and it has crossed my mind that if I was really a single mom, I'd have to choose to fight (or not fight) that battle in favor of just saving the physical and emotional energy for the battles that really matter.

I say all of this knowing that I haven't really let it all go.  I find ways to fit in nutrition, limit electronics, and keep the schedule going, because I know at the end of three weeks I'll get support and get a break.  I also know I can call Tim and get his support...it's like calling in reinforcements.  Chores and homework do get done...not perfectly, but that support is there.  Ultimately, at the end of the day, if my kids are loved and fed, it's a good day.  If they're loved, fed, getting chores and homework done, and getting to school on time, that's a bonus.

My heart does go out in a new way to moms who do this every day.  I do have support from a distance.   That ordering pizza thing he does from Atlanta is extremely convenient.  I love it when pizza just shows up at our door already paid for.  I posted that on facebook and there were some volunteers to get on the pizza delivery list.  I get that most single parents don't get that kind of support.  And did I also say he orders flowers?  I get new flowers every month.  Also the other day he even broke up a fight between Joie and Gabby (over a picture on a shoebox..of all the crazy things to fight about).  ...On the flip side, there was that one day I told him to call and remind Gabby to do the dishes, and she expertly told him the dishes were already done so she could get another (easier) job.  Smart girl!  

There is no perfect way to do this.  I guess that's life.  Certainly we didn't set out to have Tim's involvement in his current work last this long.  It's been a mixed bag of blessings for sure.  The reality is that he doesn't want to be gone any more than we want him to be gone.  A few months ago we worked it out so he could be back home again, and guess what???  We're finally there!  The single mom/absent dad era is ending.  (Huge sigh.)

Now for 3 days of crazy before he gets here...  Soccer practice, soccer meeting, Family Home Evening, play practice, singing lessons, soccer practice again (x 3), stake Activity Days, carpools, end of term projects due...and I'm sure there are other things I've forgotten.  Counting the days!

Just Keep Swimming...

I read this quote this week:

"Missing someone isn't about how long it has been since you've seen them or the amount of time since you've talked.  It's about that very moment when you find yourself doing something and wishing they were right there by your side."  

That about says it all.  We miss Tim.  Every moment of every day.

I miss him because he's the other adult in my life...the other parent...the friend I talk to...the Type B to balance my Type A...the extra set of hands during our busy, busy evenings.

The kids miss him because he's dad...the fun...the energy...the Type B to balance mom's Type A...the extra set of hands that makes mom less stressed.

Two parents means possibilities.  It means support.  It means always having someone there.  Over the years, Tim and I have perfected tag-teaming.  We got really, really good at it when we had two infants and a two year old (and to think that I thought it would be easier when they got older).  As life marches forward, no matter what happens, if one of us is busy, the other one steps up.  If one of us is tired, the other one steps up.  If one of us is sad, overwhelmed, or just plain losing it, the other one steps up.  

When half of the tag team is gone, parenting is exhausting.  Nothing seems the same when one piece of the puzzle is missing.  

The kids feel it too.  Gabby occasionally gets physically ill if something is amiss in her life.  It seems like most of the time we can do what it takes to affirm that she's ok, and she starts doing better.  This week that didn't happen.  It was a beyond brutal week as far as afternoon/evening schedules, one in which tag-teaming instead of tagging would have made a huge difference.  The end result was Gabby feeling alone and neglected.  To make matters worse, one of her best friends recently moved, and another one of her best friends was out of town for the week.  On top of that, she gets stressed about birthdays, and birthday plans, surprises, etc.  Knowing what to expect is huge, and mom having a birthday that was celebrated with my family in Idaho, then celebrated before dad went out of town, then celebrated again on my birthday was all kinds of unpredictable.  (Albeit fun for me!  Anytime I get a birthday week I'll take it.)  

Gabby is actually getting good at recognizing when stress is making her sick, and told me it was coming.  Days ahead of time she had body aches, head aches, and stomach aches.  I did what I could between juggling acts to reassure her and give her the connection she needed to feel, but it wasn't enough.  There's only so much one busy parent can do...and my best wasn't enough (huge load of mom guilt...and a few tears).

Thursday when she called me from school and was feeling sick, I knew the nerves had won.  Sure enough, as soon as she got in the car she opened the door, leaned out, and threw up in the parking lot (minimal amount on the car).  

Friday morning I cancelled appointments and stayed home with her (she didn't have school that day anyway).  We hung out in our pajamas, cuddled, watched her favorite TV show, and talked.  She told me she knew her sickness was a stress sickness, but she couldn't stop it.  Through tears she said, "It seems like whenever dad is gone and you're not here.  It's like I don't have parents."  

Ouch.  

But worse than feeling the mom guilt was feeling helpless about being able to do anything about it.  I was doing all I could, but I was only one person, and it wasn't enough.

My solution?  Say no to everything that isn't absolutely necessary...easier said than done.  Megan and Jeran wanted to hang out with friends that night, and I felt bad for Gabby and Joie so we were shopping for project ideas at the craft store.  Jeran called after his activity to see if he could go to his friend's house for a late night.  After saying I wouldn't live in the car that evening, I was still living in my car, and knew I had to say no at some point.  I knew it, and I said it.  

"I'm sorry.  I just can't do it," I said.  I heard the disappointment in his voice, but knew we were only a few minutes away from where he needed to be picked up so we left the store to go meet him.  The look on his face and the tone of voice said it all.  He was disappointed, and in spite of my best efforts to explain my human limitations (like needing sleep and food), he remained disappointed.  

I couldn't win.  Once again, alone I wasn't enough.  As we drove home in a quiet car, I started to cry.  

I really, really wanted to go to Idaho this weekend to be with my parents and family again when my parents were talking in church about their mission, but as the day progressed nothing on the "to do" list was getting done, but somehow we were busy all day.  The soonest we could leave was 6:00 p.m.  It was either that or 6:00 a.m. Sunday morning.  

"Say no to everything that isn't absolutely necessary," came into my mind, but I ignored it.  For some reason in my crazed mind, 6 hours in a car with five children, two dogs, and no adult company when I was already very, very tired of driving everywhere sounded necessary.  My motivation was wanting to be with family.  If only I could click my magic heels...

As Saturday progressed, it looked more likely that we'd leave Sunday morning.  By this time I was praying, and asking God to help guide this crazed mind through the day and through the decision making process...

That evening Jeran and Megan were getting sore throats and colds.  In the wee hours of the morning, Jeran woke up wheezing with an asthma attack to accompany his cold.

Not going to Idaho.

Homesick.

Missing Tim.

Missing "normal."

Wishing my mommy super powers would just kick in and make it all better.

Then in the middle of a discussion with Joie tonight she told me she told her class today in church that her relationship with her mom "could be better" because her mom isn't home much.  (More mom guilt...more tears...)

Somehow I start again tomorrow morning at 6:00 a.m. (which will feel like 5:00 a.m. because of daylight savings time).

Nine more days until my other half is home.

All day I keep thinking of what Dory said to Marlin in Finding Nemo:  

"Do you know whatcha gotta do, when life gets you down?  Just keep swimming, just keep swimming.”

So I'm swimming, swimming, swimming...

(And maybe buying a few boxes of Girl Scout cookies...those looked really good the other day.)

Third Time's The Charm

Look who's driving!

Yesterday Nate walked out of the DMV with his very own learner's permit.  (Gulp!)

As it turns out, my driver's license was expiring on my birthday this year, and what better birthday present than a mother-son date to the DMV? 

As per the unwritten DMV rules of the universe, getting a driver's license has to be a difficult, and this year was no exception.  New legislation in Utah requires all renewal and new applicants to provide a birth certificate, social security card, and proof of address/residence.  I thought the new rules only applied to new applicants, so Nate and I showed up at the DMV on Wednesday afternoon with all his necessary documents in hand.  He was good to proceed...  Obviously, I'd get to return later.

Learner's permit applicants take a test of basic driving rules.  They are allowed to take the test no more than two times a day, as many times as they need to pass the test.  

Nate took the test once the first day...

Then twice...

He'd have to go back again later.

Bonus!  Two mother-son dates to the DMV.

Yesterday we returned to the DMV with my necessary documents in hand.  I stood in the renewal line.  Nate took the test again.

I had all the necessary documents, but my birth certificate was a copy.  Fail!  I was getting a bad case of DMV reject-a-phobia.

Nate on the other hand, finished his test.  The worker at the desk gave him a huge congratulatory smile and said, "Third times the charm!  Do you believe that?"

Nate said, "I do now!"  

Then I drove him to near his school...and he drove me the rest of the way there.  (Gulp!)

I grew up in Idaho and got a license at age 14.  After putting my own son behind the wheel I posted on facebook:   I feel the sudden urge to thank everyone who ever taught me to drive...  I grew up driving on the farm, but to whoever handed me the keys and a license at 14, I can now say I understand that look on your face.

But back to my license dilemma...  I needed an original copy of my birth certificate, which I was lucky enough to find, so I went back to the DMV.  As I returned to the DMV I was sure that the third time would be the charm for me also...

Until my phone rang.

Gabby was sick and had thrown up at school.

I left the DMV to go pick up Gabby.

Later that day I returned to the DMV...Third time that day; fourth time in two days.

Third time's the charm...sort of.

As they handed me my renewed license, I thought to myself, "I will not return to the DMV for four more years..."

Then I realized that in the next four years Nate will get his license; Megan and Jeran will get their permits and licenses; and Joie will have her permit and possibly her license.  

The DMV and I are about to get to know each other very well.  (Gulp!)